August 19, 1968
by Amy
We lost the lawsuit. I guess I shouldn't be surprised since the deck was clearly stacked. No court in Chicago will rule against Dickless Daley. Who were we to think otherwise? Glasses, Abbie and a few others have tried meeting with the city, but it's hopeless. I am thoroughly convinced that, at this point, they want a riot to happen. After all, there's nothing like violence to discredit a nonviolent movement.
They know that thousands are coming into the city. Some have already arrived. We've set up housing for people in church basements and anywhere else we can get it. But it won't be enough. They insist on kicking everyone out of the parks at night. So where are they going to go? The streets, of course.
Over the past few days, we've worked on training marshals. We've tried setting up toilet facilities. The Permit Committee has been tearing their hair out filling out forms in triplicate over and over and over again.
Rejected. Rejected. Rejected.
With the failure of the suit, Coleman suggested that we appeal to a higher authority, which made everyone wonder if Coleman got religion. But no, he said that we should take our case to the public, meaning my Dad. I'm not thrilled with that suggestion, especially considering the pressure he's been under to not give the Movement any press at all. They'll talk about us, but not to us.
Dad won't admit that he's been under anyone's influence. It goes against his ego as a newsman. In yesterday's column, he wrote about the possibility of violence during the convention and what Chicagoans thought about it. It contained quotes, and almost nothing more. Most threatened to kick our asses if we "tried anything." A few others hoped that we'd get what we deserved. Of course, we were called un-American. But what was worse is that I don't think they even saw us as being human.
"Vile," is what Lesley called the column. Does my Father know that these people are talking about me?
Maybe I've been wrong about people. The idea that somehow, they would wake up and become ashamed of the violence that they're committing against others and cease...
I'm beginning to think that the average man on the street is a savage who could commit violence against others without giving it a second thought. Maybe we've all got a good German inside, waiting to rationalize atrocities. Once you commit murder once, I think it probably becomes easier the next time.
What is it going to be like a year from now? Who are we becoming?
